Childless by Marriage

Without Kids, Will You Spend Your Holidays Alone?

Sue Fagalde Lick alone in old age, Childless holidays, childless in old age, feeling left out on the holidays, growing old without children, who will be there when you're old , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends,

Today, I’m sharing a revised version of a post I wrote for my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack on Easter. I don’t dwell on childlessness there, but the sad truth is that if you don’t have kids, you may wind up alone in old age.

I’m watching “American Idol” on TV and crying. All those weepy moms in the audience remind me that I will never have a child to love and support like that.

It’s Easter. I have been trying hard to be Zen about not having a family to spend the holiday with, but now the reality is sinking in.

This afternoon, a niece posted a photo of my sister-in-law surrounded by her grandchildren in front of a homemade birthday cake. They had gathered for a combined Easter/birthday celebration. The kids didn’t have to be reminded and cajoled to do something for their mother. They just did it. I am happy for her. She works hard taking care of those kids and my brother.

On my last birthday, which was better than average, I went to my weekly open mic, where my fellow musicians sang to me and made me feel loved. At church, having read my posts about my upcoming birthday, our videographer brought me flowers. My neighbors invited me over for supper. It was a little uncomfortable because there were four of them and one of me. But it was kind of them, and we had fun.

I couldn’t help thinking people felt sorry for me because I was alone. Hell, I felt sorry for me.

If I didn’t say a word, who would think to do anything? And when was the last time someone baked a cake for me?

Back to the moms in the “American Idol” audience. I started wondering what my kids would be like. Would I have a pretty daughter like my niece or a tall son who would adore me and take care of me? Would they add in-laws and grandchildren so my family could be as big as my brother’s? Would I never spend a birthday or holiday alone? Would I bake cakes for their birthdays?

Excuse me while I fetch some Kleenex.

Yes, I know. I could have children who would not show up for me. Several of my parent friends spent the holiday alone because their kids were busy, lived far away, or they weren’t getting along. Some people’s children have died; surely that pain is worse than anything we might feel about never having them. Babies don’t come with guarantees.

I had three stepchildren. When my husband died, they slipped away. What little I know about them these days is posted on Facebook. What if I had tried harder to keep in touch, to be part of their lives? Would they have let me? I don’t know. I didn’t know how to be a mom, especially when my husband wasn’t enthusiastic about being a dad, but I think I blew it.

By choosing Fred, I chose a life without children of my own. He was a wonderful husband. We were so in love. Who knew he’d have early-onset Alzheimer’s and die at the age I am now? I thought he would be with me for at least another ten years.

At the top of my to-do pile is my health care advanced directive form, which specifies what I want done in a medical emergency if I can’t speak for myself. It has spaces to list the people who will speak for me. It has been on that pile for months. Besides my brother, who lives 700 miles away, I still don’t know who to choose as my alternate representative. If I had children, I’d put their names down and expect them to do it.

Who else would care enough to hang around a hospital making life and death decisions for me? I have friends, but do I have the right to put that kind of responsibility on them? Should I recruit one of my cousins, the cousins I only see at funerals? What if I put out a call for volunteers? Would anyone respond? I’m stuck.

I will figure it out. I will find someone, even if I have to pay a professional. I just learned there are “nurse advocates” who will step in if you don’t have family to speak for you. But I’m jealous of those people who can call on their grown children for everything from Easter parties to rides to the doctor to managing their affairs when they can’t do it anymore.

When a couple has children, it starts with one baby but grows into a family, with young ones to replace the older ones who pass on to the next life. If you give that up for the love of one man or woman and they leave or die, you will be alone. On Easter. Christmas. Your birthday. The anniversary of your husband’s death. The day you win a prize. The day the doctor says you have cancer.

Many people happily choose not to have children and are confident they can deal with their childfree future. Others are physically unable to get pregnant or carry a pregnancy to term, and they will feel the loss all their lives.

For those of us who are childless by marriage, who have choices, we need to think very hard before we put all our eggs in the no-kids basket. If your partner is able but unwilling, talk to them about what will happen if they are gone, and you’re left alone. If they really love you, maybe they’ll change their minds.

I know this is a weird post, but it’s what I’m thinking about this week.

How was your Easter? Was not having children an issue for you? Have you thought about what will happen when you’re older?

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At my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack, we talk about all sorts of things related to living alone. Come join us at https://suelick.substack.com.

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Will You Ever Find Peace with Your Childlessness? 

Sue Fagalde Lick "get over it", accepting a life without children., childless grief, infertility, menopause for childless women, regret, regret not having children , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Facing a future with no children used to drive me crazy. Back when I was fertile and married to a man who was not, I cried a lot, mostly where he couldn’t see me. I resented my friends whose lives revolved around their kids. I did not want to hear their happy stories or look at their pictures. Baby showers? What do I know about babies? Count me out.

As far as I knew, there was nothing wrong with my baby-making parts, but they were being wasted, evidenced by painful periods every month, reminders I was running out of time. 

Now I’m 72, childless and widowed. Although being alone can be difficult, I have to tell you that I don’t think about childlessness all the time anymore. If you are in your 20s, 30s, or early 40s, feeling bad because you wanted children and might never have even one baby, know that it does get easier. Like any loss, it doesn’t go away, but you do learn to live with it. 

Yes, you will feel breakthrough grief and anger. You’ll see a family at play or hold someone else’s baby and think I could have had that, but as you get older, it will become a less important feature in your life. You will wonder who will care for you in old age, but know that even if you had children, they might not be available to help.

When you’re surrounded by people getting married and having babies, you feel excluded, jealous, and angry at whatever keeps you from having the children you always wanted. Or you resent the people who keep pushing you to have the children you never wanted. You’ll regret it, they warn. What if they’re right? It can be a brutal time. 

The night before my 40th birthday, I had a meltdown that I describe in my Childless by Marriage book. At a Catholic women’s retreat, everyone was talking about their kids. Our guided meditation put me face to face with what I had lost, and it felt unbearable. As the women running the retreat held me, I sobbed in front of everyone. I felt broken. It didn’t help that I really wanted a drink, and there was no alcohol around.

But as I approached menopause, so many other things took my attention. My writing career was taking off. I was performing music almost every weekend. I earned my long-delayed master’s degree. We moved from San Jose, California to Oregon and experienced a very different life in a small coastal town.

My mother died, my husband was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease, and my father needed lots of help before he passed away. You hear about the “sandwich generation,” about people caught between caring for their children and caring for their parents. Without children, we can be open-faced sandwiches, helping our older relatives without neglecting our children. 

By my 50s, people stopped bugging me about having kids, and my friends were free to do non-kid activities again. Yes, the grandchildren came, but that was an off and on thing. We could still be friends.

Do I wish I was a grandmother? Sometimes. but childlessness is not at the front of my mind anymore. I took a different path, and it’s too late to turn back.

With every choice, you lose the chance to pursue the other option. By moving to Oregon, we lost the chance to grow old in San Jose, closer to family and so many resources that don’t exist here. If I had married someone else or not married at all, my story would be different. You choose one road and let the other one go.

I can torture myself by imagining what it would be like to have children, how they would look, what we would do together, how I would hold my grandbabies in my arms. But my life didn’t go that way, and I suspect that’s how it was meant to be. 

Not having children has given me the gift of great gobs of time that mothers don’t always have. Time and freedom. I don’t have to find a babysitter or take a kid with me if I decide I want to go to lunch, take a walk on the beach, or spend the night elsewhere. I just go. 

Would I trade my freedom for a walk on the beach with my son or daughter, maybe with their children splashing in the surf or building sandcastles? In a heartbeat. But that’s not on the menu for me. And I’m 80 percent okay with it.  

Maybe you’re at that age when becoming a parent would still be possible under other current circumstances and you’re driving yourself crazy trying to decide what to do: Leave your partner in the hope of finding someone who will give you kids? Try IVF? Hire a surrogate? Adopt? You may fight with your partner over it and cry a lot.

I know how bad it hurts. I’m saying that later it will be easier. Childlessness will not be the center of your life, and that makes room for other things, wonderful things. 

That’s not nothing.

How about you? Are you going crazy over being childless? Do you regret the choices that led you to be without children? Did you have a choice? Do you think you will ever be okay with it? Or are you fine with it now? Have you found peace with your situation? How?

I’m great-grandmother old. Tell me how it is for you at whatever age you are.

I welcome your comments.

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If you enjoy this blog, you may want to visit my Substack, Can I Do It Alone?

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Accepting a Childless Life Should Not Be a Crime

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness, husband can't have kids, my wife can't have children, nosy questions, partners who can't give you children , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s illegal now in Russia to advocate a childfree life. Anyone who spreads “propaganda against childbearing” can be fined. Any content in films, advertising, media, and other online platforms that shines a favorable light on life without children is prohibited.

Russian President Vladimir Putin signed these provisions into law in November.

Russia is one of many countries where the birthrate has dropped, causing fears that soon there will lots of old people with no young people to care for them or to keep the country going.

Other nations, including the United States, are experiencing the same problem but haven’t done anything as drastic as Russia’s new law. They lay the blame on the childless by choice, but let’s be real. Far more nonparents are childless by circumstance than by choice. We don’t have kids due to infertility, physical or emotional health problems, lack of a willing partner, or lack of the financial means to support a child. We would like to have children but, for whatever reason, we can’t.

Is it wrong that after grieving our loss, we seek to put a positive spin on the situation? Even some of the posts I have written here suggesting ways to enjoy life without children might be illegal under Russia’s new law. Would it be a crime to name the many highly successful people who never had kids?

Thank God we don’t live in Russia.

And yet, we can detect the same attitude in our own countries, can’t we?

Remember U.S. Vice-President-elect J.D. Vance and his comments about how “childless cat ladies” don’t have a stake in the country’s future?

Entrepreneur/Trump advisor Elon Musk recently wrote on Twitter in regard to dropping birth rates: “Instead of teaching fear of pregnancy, we should teach fear of childlessness.” He suggested the low fertility rates stem from a cultural hostility toward pregnancy and child-rearing. “We need to stop scaring women that having a kid destroys your life.”

Well, let’s put some context on that last bit. When I was young, yes, our parents told us the worst thing that could happen, short of dying, was to get pregnant outside of marriage. It was the sixties, when unwed mothers were still being hidden away and forced to give up their babies for adoption. And yes, having a baby when you’re young, with no education and no husband, can throw a monkey wrench into your plans, but that’s not what Musk is talking about. He’s buying into the common myth that all of us without children are simply selfish.

This attitude isn’t new. Churches, families, friends, co-workers, and clueless strangers have been after us forever with questions about why we don’t have kids and when we’re going to get with the program. They imply that we’re immature and thinking only of ourselves, defying God’s will and depriving our parents of grandchildren. And now, we’re also unbalancing the population. Most of us feel bad enough without all this guilt and misunderstanding.

Birthrates are falling around the world, and many countries, including the U.S., are doing what they can to encourage more babies by offering tax credits, increased parental leave, and better daycare options. That’s all good, but it’s important to acknowledge that some people don’t have a choice and are grieving the loss of the children they might have had. If, like many of us here, we choose childlessness by partnering with people who are unable or unwilling to have babies with us, that should be no one’s business but our own.

Nor should it be a crime to come through the hard decisions and declare that life without children can be happy and fulfilling. Or that we make valuable contributions because we are not busy raising kids. Look at all the famous writers, artists, scientists, and government leaders who never had children.

I sense a growing belief that nonparents have been preaching to the younger generation that kids are a pain and they’re better off without them. That’s not true for most of us, but there’s nothing wrong with letting kids know they have choices, and that parenthood is not required for a good life.

Russia’s reaction is extreme. I don’t expect any other countries to pass similar laws, but the anti-childless attitude is spreading. All we can do is tell our truths and hope people listen.

I hope you are all off to a good start for the new year. Has your childless situation or your feelings about it changed with the coming of 2025? Please share in the comments.

You may also want to take a look at my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” which explores how those of us without partners or children can live our best lives.

If you feel inspired to write a guest post, please get in touch.

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Being an aunt is not the same, but it’s pretty darned good

Sue Fagalde Lick aunts, childless aunts, helping parents at Christmas, Melanie Notkin, no kids at Christmas , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Illustrating the fun aunts can have with nieces and nephews. Photo shows a little girl riding piggyback on a woman's shoulders in a park. Both wear pale blue jeans and pink jackets.

You know how people get to talking about their kids and we have nothing to say because we don’t have any? Being an aunt or uncle can get you into the conversation with more fun and less angst. 

I suppose it’s like being grandparents, except you’re still young enough to be fun. 

I spent Thanksgiving with great-nieces and nephews who gave me plenty to talk about. Especially the oldest one. R. and I dressed for Thanksgiving dinner together, exchanging fashion tips. We played games. I was a customer at her pretend restaurant and a student in her pretend school. I let her try my guitar, and I listened to the song she made up. I was not the one telling her to brush her teeth, get dressed, or quiet down. We exchanged confidences and terrific hugs. Last summer, we were the ones who went swimming together while the grownups watched. I’m not ready to be one of the grownups. I’m the aunt. A long-distance one who doesn’t get to see them often enough, but an aunt nonetheless.

This trip, the younger kids were so busy playing with each other it was hard to get their attention, but still I could love and admire them and be amazed at all they had learned since the last time I saw them. I could brag about them. And soon I will go Christmas shopping for them because these kids give me a place in the world of children that I would otherwise miss.

When people talk about their grandchildren, I can talk about the nieces and nephews instead of just reverting to my own childhood or talking about dogs and cats. It feels good.

I told my brother how lucky he was to have this beautiful family. Bless his heart, he said, “Well, you’re part of it.”  

We are not all lucky enough to have siblings and nieces and nephews, biological or honorary. Sometimes being around other people’s kids painfully reminds us of the children we will never have. We may also feel awkward because we don’t have experience with young people unless we work with them as teachers, coaches or caregivers. It’s easier to avoid them, along with the adults who ask why, if you like kids so much, aren’t you having any?

You may not be able to relate to kids at this point in your childless life. The wound is too tender. Or maybe they just drive you nuts with their noise and unleashed energy. On my trip, I saw a family with three boys and a girl who jumped out of their car like they were shot out of a canon. As they headed into Applebee’s for lunch, I thought thank God I don’t have to deal with that. 

As the aunt, I can give them all a big hug and go off on my free adult way. But as they grow, they will become real people I can talk to and love and brag about as part of my family. Maybe they’ll even help me when I get old. Maybe not, but it’s possible. 

If you don’t have any siblings with children, it’s still possible to be an honorary aunt to your friends’ kids. You just have to show up with arms ready for hugging, ears ready for listening, and a heart ready to play. For the parents, you can be an extra set of hands, respite when they need a break, backup they can count on. 

If you’re not up to it, that’s okay. But if you are, grab the chance.  

Have you heard of The Savvy Auntie? Back in 2009, Melanie Notkin started an organization called The Savvy Auntie that has blossomed into books, blogs, merchandise, and all kinds of support for women without kids who embrace their aunt status. Check it out at SavvyAuntie.com.

Aunthood (and unclehood) is what you make it. You can have a close relationship, none at all, or something in-between. But at least it gives you something to talk about when people are going on about their children and grandchildren or when you’re Christmas shopping and want an excuse to hang out in the toy department. 

In literature, as in real life, there are good aunts and bad aunts (ditto for uncles). Auntie Em in “The Wizard of Oz” was nice enough. Who wouldn’t love Aunt Bea from the old “Andy Griffith Show?” But the aunt in Anne of Green Gables? She was mean. Let’s hope we’re the good kind, the aunts who love their nieces and nephews and can match any proud grandma’s stories with stories of their own. 

Further reading

Great Aunts of Literature | Book Riot

Aunts and Uncles in Literature: The Good, the Bad, and the Downright Evil

How about you? Are you an aunt or uncle? Do you enjoy it? Why or why not? I look forward to your comments. 

Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels.com

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I will be participating in another Childless Elderwomen’s chat on Zoom on Sunday, Dec. 15, at noon Pacific time. Our topic is solo aging, and we have a bang-up panel of women you will love. If you register here, you can join us live or receive the recording afterward. This is a webinar, so you will not be seen or heard on screen.

I highly recommend Jody Day’s Substack post “The 3am bag lady blues.” She addresses that fear of growing old alone that many of us share.

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Why Your Marriage Might Be Happier Without Kids

Sue Fagalde Lick babies and marriage, childfree, children taking the romance out of marriage, effect of children on marriage, Happily Childfree , , , , ,

I don’t usually venture far into the “childfree” community because the anti-children rhetoric makes me grit my teeth, but when I came across this 10-minute video on Facebook today, I decided to ditch my planned post and share this with you because, well, wow.

If you have time, watch it and come back.

In this video, “Childfree Kimberly” aka Kimberly Fisher shares “Why You Should Get Married and Not Have Kids.” She offers a list of advantages to having a childfree marriage. They include: privacy, quality time with your partner, no requirement to “stay together for the kids” but a chance to choose every day to stay together, freedom to grow together rather than fall into separate mom and dad roles, spontaneous dates to do fun things together, and no child getting in the middle of your marriage.

Here’s the thing. She’s right. All of these points sound like great advantages to not having children. Kids do interrupt your privacy and make it hard to spend quality time together. They are a consideration in everything you do, whether it’s going out to dinner or deciding to split up. They’re also expensive, messy, and frequently annoying. When children enter the picture, your relationship changes and not always in a good way.

We could argue the other side, the advantages of having children, the magic of creating a human being, the joy of having a big family, the satisfaction of carrying family genes and traditions into the next generation, the companionship of grown sons and daughters, help in old age, etc. We would be right about that, too.

Many parents would say that raising children is difficult but rewarding, that you feel a love like you’ve never felt before. Kids can also break your heart. People who never wanted children might say, “Who needs all this drama?”

I wanted to share this video at Childless by Marriage because it may help us understand why our partners are unwilling to have children with us, especially if they have already gone through it with someone else. They want the privacy, freedom, and connection uninterrupted by little ones screaming, “Mommy!” or “Daddy!” It makes sense, but what if you can’t imagine life without the little ones? What if you want all that drama? It’s certainly something for you and your partner to talk about.

If you are physically unable to have children, maybe this video will offer some consolation.

Let’s talk about it here, too. What is your response to this video? Would you show it to your partner? What would he/she say? If you were to make a list of reasons why you should get married and HAVE children, what would it include? I’m so glad you all are here to talk about this stuff.

For more on Kimberly, visit her Instagram site: https://www.instagram.com/kimberlyfisher.cf/ or her YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/ChildfreeKimberly

‘You can just adopt’ and other childless ‘bingos’

Sue Fagalde Lick books about childlessness, Clueless comments , , , , , , , ,

I have just returned from the land of many babies, where I heard so many childless “bingos,” I need a new card. “Bingos,” if you haven’t heard, are the clueless comments people make about childlessness. If you’d like a good list of the typical ones, visit https://bingobaker.com/view/496736, where you will find a full bingo card of remarks such as “Don’t you like kids?” “Who will take care of you when you’re old?” and “Children are a woman’s greatest achievement.” We have heard a few of those, right?

Last weekend, I was in San Jose, California, for the Dia de Portugal festival, the first one since the pandemic began. I was there to see friends and family and sell books. It was incredibly hot, noisy, and crowded. The most popular booths were the ones selling beer and water.

At my table in the Portuguese authors section, I spread out my books: two on Portuguese Americans, two books of poetry, and my two books about childlessness, Childless by Marriage and Love or Children: When You Can’t Have Both.

People walked by. Some paused to flip through the pages of my Portuguese books, then walked on. Some bought copies. Some said, “Oh, I have that book. It’s good.”

We traded a few words in my limited Portuguese. “Bom dia” (Good day), “Obrigada” (Thank you), “Faz calor.” (It’s hot). A parade circled the plaza at the History Park San Jose where the festival was held. Singers sang, and folkloric dancers in red, green and yellow costumes danced. People passed by wearing the Portuguese flag design on shirts, scarves, hats, and even Covid masks. I said hello to Portuguese people I hadn’t seen in years.

Here’s the thing. I knew it was a Portuguese festival and most interest would be in the Portuguese books, but I didn’t expect some of the reactions I got to my childless books. Most who looked at them didn’t understand the concept of being childless by marriage. When I tried to explain, a woman early on responded, “Well, that’s no problem. You just adopt.”

“It’s not that easy,” I began, but she was gone.

A couple of the men snickered at my Love or Children title. “I choose love,” said one well into his beer ration. “Children?” He made a disgusted face.

The younger women all seemed to have children and/or be pregnant. The woman sharing my table, Higina da Guia, a nice writer originally from the Portuguese island of Madeira, was selling children’s books. Most of the books were bilingual, in Portuguese and English, intended for parents wanting to teach their little ones whichever language they didn’t know. Swell. But time after time, a woman would be looking at my books, and then her husband or friend would nudge her to look at the children’s books. They totally forgot about my grownup books.

I should note they showed no interest in my poetry either. Oh well. When I try to sell my Portuguese books in Oregon, people pass right by them. It’s all about context.

Higina’s daughter and granddaughter joined her. I watched as Higina wrapped the little girl in a red, white and black costume from Madeira. She was so excited to see the little girl in the skirt and vest passed through the generations of her family. “She will remember this forever,” she told me as the child posed for pictures. It was sweet, but it made me sad. I will never get to do that.

My brother came with his daughter and granddaughter, my niece and great-niece. I was so glad to see them and to have the validation of family sitting with me for a while. I love being Aunt Sue. It’s not the same as being a mom, but it helps. I don’t see them often enough. I shed a few tears when they left.

Helping me in my booth was my sister-friend Pat, a mother and grandmother whose claims to anything Portuguese are that she grew up in Massachusetts with lots of Portuguese people and that she once dated a Portuguese guy. She had a great time talking to everyone and people-watching. I noticed she reacts to children the way I react to dogs, as if they are magic and she has a special connection with them. It’s one of many things I love about her.

But I learned a lesson. When I take my childlessness and my childless books out into the world, I can expect many bingos, especially in an old-country culture where not having children does not seem to be a “thing.”

Living in a retirement community where I don’t see many kids, I forget how it might be for you where you live, especially if you’re at an age where your friends and family are busy with babies and growing children.

Where do you hear the most bingos? Is there a situation where it’s especially hard to not have children? Let’s talk about it. I welcome your comments.

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What Do the Childless and Childfree Have in Common?

Sue Fagalde Lick childfree, childless, childless women in old age, questions about having children , , , , , , ,

A friend who never wanted to have children said the other night that she knew I wrote about childlessness, but that had nothing to do with her because she chose not to have children. But we actually have quite a lot in common, I said. When I started naming some of those things, she responded, “I never thought of that.” 

Let’s think about it today. How do the childfree and the childless differ and what do we have in common? 

The obvious difference is that the “childfree” have chosen not to be parents. Their reasons vary. They want their freedom, they don’t think they’d be good parents, they can’t afford it, they’re giving their all to their career, or they’re doing their part to save the planet from overpopulation. They reject the term “childless” because they don’t feel “less” anything. 

The childless also come to their state in different ways, from infertility to disability to lack of a willing partner. Some spend years trying and failing to give birth. Some agonize over whether to leave their partner and try on their own or with someone new. They grieve the loss of the life they might have had. They dream about having babies and ache when they see families with children. They do feel “less” a great deal.

These two groups sound very different. But there is a gray area. Some of us chose partners we knew would not give us children. Consciously or not, we made a choice. In some cases, we may even come to feel “childfree.”

What do we have in common? More than you might think. 

  • Most of us do not hate children. We may or may not want to be raising them, but we find them lovable and entertaining and don’t mind hanging out with them.
  • We get bombarded with questions and comments, particularly in our fertile years. “When are you going to have children?” “Why don’t you have children?” “You’ll change your mind.” “Who’s going to take care of you in old age?” “You’re not getting any younger.”
  • We find that our old friends are so preoccupied with their children and later their grandchildren that they don’t have time for us. Besides, they have new friends they met at their children’s schools, soccer team, ballet classes, etc., friends with whom they have more in common now. 
  • We have more freedom because our lives are not tied to the school schedule unless we work in the schools. We never need a babysitter, although we may need a pet-sitter.
  • People ask us how many children we have because it doesn’t occur to them we might not have any. 
  • We worry about who will care for us in old age. My friend is in the process of setting up her will and advance directives. Single and childfree, she is not sure whom to entrust with her health-care and financial decisions when she is incapacitated. She has half-siblings whom she does not feel close to. I have a brother I love dearly, and I have given him the power on all my documents, but I know we think differently about some things. Will he do what I want in the end? What happens if he dies first? 
  • We all hate Mother’s Day. 

A few years ago, I attended the NotMom Summit in Cleveland. NotMom founder Karen Malone Wright had the radical idea that women who are not mothers, whether by choice or by chance, could congregate in an atmosphere of mutual love and acceptance. It worked beautifully. By the end, I had made new friends, some of whom never wanted to be moms. I sat with one of these new friends on the plane ride home and we talked all the way back to the West Coast about everything but motherhood. It was a joy, and we are still friends. The fact that we came to be NotMoms in different ways doesn’t matter. 

I don’t want to downplay the horrible pain of infertility or the rudeness of some people who are militantly anti-parenting, but we do have quite a bit in common, whether we’re childless by choice or not. As for those of us who are childless by marriage, aren’t we making a choice not to have children every day we stay with a partner who can’t or doesn’t want to give us children?

Let’s talk about it in the comments. What do the childless and childfree have in common? What is different?

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It’s Okay to Enjoy Other People’s Kids During the Holidays

Sue Fagalde Lick childless aunts, feeling left out on the holidays, finding comfort during the holidays, Thanksgiving and stepchildren, Thanksgiving without children , , , ,

Hanging out with cousin Francis and the offspring of my cousins Rob and Candace.

Dear friends,

I survived Thanksgiving. 1636 miles of driving. Four different motels. Some much-needed hugs and talks with loved ones, too much good food, and getting reacquainted with my niece, nephew, cousins, and six children ranging from five months to six years old, and two dogs. Exhausting but also wonderful. Three of the little ones were my brother’s grandchildren. The other three belong to my cousin. Thanks to Covid, the kids hadn’t seen me in two years. They weren’t quite sure who I was at first, but we worked that out. I have precious memories of playing in the sandbox, making pretend meals, snuggling, and talking. So sweet. So fun. So loud and messy. 🙂 And no, I didn’t feel bad about not having children. Maybe it’s my age, but I was able to just enjoy the children for the magical beings they are. 

Being an aunt rocks. I hope I don’t have to stay away so long next time. One of the little cousins has been video-chatting with me on Facebook messenger. It’s so fun to see her gap-toothed smile on the screen. I think I need to do more online visits. Aunt Sue is tired of driving. 

Will they come to Oregon to visit me? Maybe, maybe not. Young families are not as portable as single adults like me. Watching their struggles for a few days has opened my eyes to the challenges of parenthood that come between the cute baby phase and sending them off to college. I need to make the effort because they just don’t have the time or the energy right now. That may be true in your family, too. 

Only now that I’m back at home do I feel lonely and miss the company and the commotion. If you are finding the holidays very painful right now, believe me when I say that they will become easier as you pass menopause and move on to other possibilities. 

So, tell me. How did your Thanksgiving go? Are there things you did this year that you will not do next year? Did you try my suggestions from last week about speaking up when people say stupid things about you not having children? Please share in the comments. Thanksgiving was just the warmup. Hanukkah is happening now, and Christmas is coming at us like a runaway stagecoach. We need all the support we can get.

Hugs from Aunt Sue 

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The choices that lead us to childlessness

Sue Fagalde Lick childless stepmothers, second marriages, stepchildren , , , , , , , , , , ,
Fred Lick and Chico

I’ve been rewriting a memoir about caring for my husband with Alzheimer’s disease. In describing where we were back then, I needed to look back at how we got there and the choices we made. One of the biggest for me was choosing to marry a man who would not give me children. Fifteen years older than I was, Fred already had three children from wife #1, followed by a vasectomy. He made it clear he did not want to deal with babies again.

So why did I marry him when I had always expected to have children? Was it simply that the demise of my first marriage had left me feeling that I would always be alone and that I had already missed my chance? Maybe. Was it that my career was always more important than the children I might have had? I wonder.

I wish I could be anonymous today, but let’s dive into the reasons I committed my life to this man and gave up motherhood. As they say on American Idol, in no particular order. . .

  1. He had three children who could become my children. Instant family, two boys and a girl, no labor pains, no stretch marks. We didn’t exactly become the Brady Bunch, but they were kids and they were kind of mine. I got a partial membership to the Mom Club.
  2. I love, love, loved Fred. Still do. And he loved me.
  3. Men weren’t exactly lining up to be with me. After the divorce and a few more failed relationships, I thought I would be alone forever. Being married with no children beat not being married at all.
  4. My last relationship before I met Fred had exploded, leaving me a wreck. The man was verbally and sexually abusive and threatened to dump me every time I tried to stand up for myself. Fred was kind, smart, respectful and loving. He treated me like a princess.
  5. He brought love, family, and financial stability. I was not a “golddigger.” I did not marry Fred for money–he wasn’t rich–but I was aware that being with him would raise me out of poverty and let me pursue my writing and music dreams.
  6. Fred was a freaking catch.

I didn’t analyze it at the time. I didn’t make a list of pros and cons. We were ridiculously in love. Period. We both had been hurt in previous relationships and were happy to find love again. We had a lot in common. We fit. I have never regretted that choice.

Not that he was perfect. He had his quirks, but I’m kind of a pain in the ass, so I think I lucked out.

Until today, I never thought hard about why Fred chose me. I was his friend Mike’s sister. He found me pretty, talented, sexy and available. But I wondered at the time if he was ready for a new relationship. I had been single for four years, but he and his first wife had split less than a year earlier. Their divorce wasn’t final yet. Was I the rebound girl? Was it just that Fred couldn’t stand to be alone? I have seen men marry younger women to fluff their egos, take care of their kids, and cook their meals. I have seen men hook up with women with well-paid jobs to share their money. But Fred was doing fine on his own. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He’s here not to ask, so let’s just say I appeared at the right time and place and it was good for both of us. Or, as I tell my religious friends, God put us together, one of his miracles.

Enough about me. More than enough. Hindsight is always 20-20, as the tiresome saying goes. If you’re in the midst of a potentially childless by marriage situation, don’t wait for hindsight. Go somewhere by yourself and analyze your choices while you have time to change your mind—or decide that you don’t want to change a thing. Just know why you’re doing it.

I welcome your comments.

NOTE: This is the 750th post at the Childless by Marriage blog. It started in 2007, years before the Childless by Marriage book was published. I’m amazed. I brag that I could write 500 words on any subject, but still…

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Can You Answer the Hard Questions About Childlessness?

Sue Fagalde Lick accepting childlessness, childless podcast, men who already have children, men who don't want children, stepchildren , , , , , , ,
Jo Vraca

Do you get stuttery when people start asking questions about your childless situation? I sure felt like I did last night when I was being interviewed for an upcoming podcast. And I’ve published two books and over 700 blog posts on the subject. Jo Vraca of the UnRipe podcast from Melbourne, Australia asked some tough questions that I found difficult to answer.

I have told the story of how I came to be childless many times. First husband didn’t want them, second husband had a vasectomy and three kids from his first marriage. But she pressed for more.

When did I know for sure that my first husband didn’t want children? There was that comment, when I thought I might be pregnant, that if I was, he’d be gone, but did he actually say, “I never want to have children.” No. Why didn’t I press him on it, get a commitment one way or the other? Why didn’t I threaten to leave? I was only in my 20s. Why didn’t I take my fertile eggs and find someone who wanted more than a sex partner?

I don’t know. I was young. It was the 70s. We were Catholic. I thought we had to stay married. I thought no one else would want me. I thought eventually he’d give in. After six years, a few months after he announced that he wasn’t sure he wanted to stay married, I caught him cheating. I moved out and filed for divorce. The Catholic Church annulled the marriage based on his refusal to have children.  

I haven’t seen my ex since 1981 (I know, longer than many of you have been alive.) Through his sister and through searching online, I know he got married two more times and never fathered any children. So maybe I have my answer.

But why did I let him take motherhood away from me? I wish I had a good answer for that.

Then came Fred. I knew the facts, and yet I didn’t face my future as a childless woman for a long time. When did I know for sure? Again, I can’t say. I guess I knew it as I approached 40 and saw no Disney movie magic making my dreams come true. Was there a day when I said, well, if I’m married to Fred, I’m never going to have any children? Not until after I went through menopause in my early 50s. Why not? Was I hoping the stepchildren would fill the gap? I guess I was. Did they? No. Maybe if their father had been more involved, if I had tried harder, if my family had been more welcoming . . .” They’re not in my life, and I feel this big knot of guilt when I think about them.

Finally, knowing everything I know now, would I still stay with Fred? Yes. I never met anyone else I’d rather be with. I just wish childlessness had been a more conscious decision and that we had talked about it more.

Jo Vraca asked really challenging questions. She’s a good interviewer, and she doesn’t waste time on nonsense like so many podcasters do. She forces people to think, and that’s a good thing.

My UnRipe interview will be online in a few weeks. I’ll share the link when it’s available. Meanwhile, give some of the other interviews a listen.

Jo, an author, dog and cat mom and chef in training, is childless herself. At first, she and her husband both agreed they weren’t interested in having children. But as the biological clock ticked down, she changed her mind. He went along with it, but they couldn’t conceive. They tried IVF, but it didn’t work. Finally, he said he really didn’t want to have a child or to go through any more fertility treatments. So they stopped.  

Life happens, and often we don’t note the moments that change things. Years later, we look back and wonder: How did that happen?

Does this stir up some questions for you? I’d love to read your comments.

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